Mema
We would drive
in the heat of the
afternoon, down long
winding roads.
A silly nickname
for a long railroad
and another
reminiscent of a cat.
Her house would
be full of church
hymns, and the smell
of homemade biscuits.
Sometimes, when I close
my eyes, I still hear
her humming, and her
rummaging around the kitchen.
I open them, and
see an empty room, a
home vacant of one
once loving and strong.
Long Country Road
I walk down
the familiar road,
surrounded by trees
and flowers.
The familiar scent
of honeysuckle, and
the sound of a
truck flying by.
13 years ago, this
would have been a
normal day like
any other.
Today, a funeral
looms on the horizon, a
tear falls from
my eye.
A memory full of echos.
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